Hole in the Heart Page 5

  “That’s true, ma’am. We’ll do our best to reach a conclusion for y’all, and I’m truly sorry for your loss.”

  “I called my husband at work and told him the case was being handed off to Ranger Blackmore and his team, and he couldn’t have been more pleased.”

  “We have the file,” said Farrell, “but it would be helpful if you could give me any details that y’all might have thought of since you made your statements. It wasn’t in the file, but did y’all know the person Lauren was seeing on New Year’s Eve?”

  “Like I told the sheriff’s office, Lauren said it was a party and she didn’t have a particular date.”

  “Had she broken up with anyone prior to her disappearance?”

  “Not that I knew about. She didn’t have a steady boyfriend.”

  “You didn’t notice her getting texts or calls she didn’t want to answer?”

  Mrs. Maxwell shook her head. A pretty woman with dark hair and coppery skin. “Let me think. The police took her laptop and her phone, so they must know about all her calls and emails. I’m sorry, I don’t know.”

  “My boss will re-check all of those. Don’t worry.” Farrell sipped his tea and emptied his glass. “Would you like me to keep you posted, Mrs. Maxwell? It might take us a while. We’re starting over—like from the beginning.”

  “That would be so thoughtful, Ranger Donovan. Thank you for coming in person.”

  Farrell laid one of his cards on the table. “Any thought you have, even if it doesn’t seem important, call me.”

  LUKE programmed Benny Watson’s address into the GPS as Travis drove through Sonora. “He might have got himself another job,” said Luke, “and not be at home.”

  “Anything is possible,” said Travis. “Wonder why they fired him from the garage?”

  “Maybe he was too nosy,” said Luke. “Saw something he shouldn’t if those are our guys.”

  “Possible.”

  The GPS lady said they’d reached their destination and Travis parked. “Must be that duplex with the ‘rooms for rent’ sign in the window. Can’t see a house number from here.”

  “Let’s see what’s up with Benny.”

  Travis knocked on the front door and a gray-haired lady wearing shorts and a red tank top opened it. A cigarette hung from her mouth and she didn’t remove it, just mumbled around it like a mobster in an old movie.

  Travis showed his creds. “I’d like to speak to Benny Watson, ma’am. Which room is he in?”

  She hooked a thumb over her shoulder. “Upstairs and to the right. Number four. And while you’re talking to Mr. Watson remind him that his rent is due.”

  Luke grinned and followed Travis up the staircase that had been painted a shiny black, then plastered with red rose decals on each riser. Frightening. Luke knocked on room number four and got no result. He tried again. Nothing.

  Travis hollered. “Benny Watson, this is the police. Open the door.”

  The old lady was halfway up the stairs. “Do you have to yell so fuckin loud. You could wake the dead.”

  “Do you know if Mr. Watson is home?”

  “Course he’s home. He got fired from his job because he’s an asshole. Where else would he be?”

  Travis covered his hand with the bottom of his t-shirt and tried the knob. Open. He pushed the door wide open and the putrefied air smacked them in the face. There was no mistaking the smell of death.

  “Lord Jesus, don’t do this to me,” the landlady tried to push in behind them to see what was going on. “Don’t stink up one of my rooms. I won’t be able to rent it for a goddam month.”

  Luke turned and blocked the woman. “I’ll have to ask you to wait downstairs, ma’am. Go tell first response where we are.”

  “Tell ‘em yourself, kiddo. This is my house and I’ll stand wherever the hell I want.”

  Luke pushed the door closed and the landlady was forced to back up. He locked the door and ignored her pounding and hollering.

  “What does it look like?” he asked Travis.

  “Big caliber. Way too big for a close up shot.”

  Benny Watson was reclining in the green recliner with most of his head missing. A half finished Shiner’s sat on the little table beside the chair, the TV blasted out the news. Blood, brains and tissue coated the shade of the vintage floor lamp behind the chair and extra splatter had decorated the flocked black and gold wallpaper.

  “He’s been dead a while,” said Luke in his Louisiana drawl. “A large gathering of blow flies.”

  Bluebonnet. Texas.

  FARRELL drove out to Bluebonnet alone. It was dusk when he arrived at Avery’s trailer. He’d called ahead so she wouldn’t be startled to see him. The last time he’d seen her, she seemed a little—no a lot—on edge.

  “Come in, Farrell. Nice to see you again.” She was wearing her work clothes. Torn jeans and a dirty t-shirt. A cowgirl hat on her head. She had a little toddler with jet black hair by the hand helping him into his highchair.

  Jeeze, she is so beautiful.

  “Sorry, I haven’t had time to clean up.” She smiled, and Farrell’s heart did a flip-flop.

  “No matter. I’ve been working all day too, and I’ve looked better.”

  “You look good to me,” she said in a whisper and Farrell felt the breath leave his body.

  Nobody ever made me do that.

  “I usually have a beer while I’m getting dinner ready. Can I get you one?”

  “For sure. Thanks.”

  She reached into the fridge and grabbed two cans of Lone Star. “You said you had a few more questions for me. Did you find out something?”

  “Uh huh. When the garage in Austin went over your sister’s Jeep they identified someone who’d been inside.”

  Avery stopped and gave Farrell her full attention. “Who was it?”

  “It was a man named Benny Watson. Do you know him?”

  “No, but I think Sylvie knew him slightly. He hung around with her boyfriend, Diego, some. Why would he be in her Jeep?”

  “I don’t have the answer to that.”

  Diego Junior started to fuss in his highchair and Sylvie turned back to the counter to fix his supper for him. “I don’t want to think about what might have happened to her.” Tears rolled down her cheeks. “I can’t bear it.”

  Farrell walked over and wrapped her in a hug. “I’m so sorry for your sadness,” he whispered. He kissed her gently and she turned towards him, eased her arms around him and deepened the kiss.

  “Can you stay for a while? I could use the company.”

  “Sure, I’ll tell the boys I’ll meet them back at the hotel.”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Tuesday, May 5th.

  Huntsville. Texas.

  CARLOS AND FLETCHER were in position outside the fence when Johnathan Frobisher, better known as ‘The General’ was released at eleven a.m. Johnathan was one of three Frobisher brothers, all super powers in white supremacy prison gangs.

  A black Escalade waited close to the gate and Carlos parked a little farther back so he wouldn’t be noticed. The gate opened, Frobisher swaggered through and without hesitation opened the passenger door of the SUV and ducked his shaved head inside. The heavily tinted windows didn’t allow clues as to how many of the Aryan gang members had come to pick up the big boss.

  “He’s huge,” said Fletcher, “and he probably worked out the whole time he was inside. That’s what the cons did in Travis County when I worked there. Glad we only have to shadow him.”

  “That’s all the boss wants,” said Carlos. “He doesn’t want the fuckers to know we’re watching them.”

  “Why are we watching them?” asked Fletcher. “Are we allowed to know?”

  “Boss got a call, that’s all I know. We’re violent crime,” Carlos pointed at the Escalade, “and that right there is violent crime waiting to happen.”

  Fletcher shrugged. “Good enough. We get paid the same for surveillance as for getting fuckin shot.”

  Carlos la
ughed as he let two vehicles fill in between them and the Escalade.

  Giddings. Texas.

  AFTER BREAKFAST, Jesse headed for the study to reread the murder books they’d collected from the various sheriff’s offices, and Charity tagged along behind him. She’d clearly missed him while he was away and now didn’t want to lose sight of her Daddy.

  “Daddy has to work. Can you play quietly with your toys if I bring some in here for you?”

  “Play me, Daddy.”

  “Hmm… I have work to do, baby. Maybe you could play with Shannon for the morning. Let me phone Wendy.”

  The Blackmore Agency. Austin. Texas.

  BLAINE lingered at the breakfast table with Misty and Carm finishing his second cup of coffee. The house seemed empty without Farrell around and Blaine had dispatched Carlos and Fletcher to Huntsville to start the new job he wasn’t too happy about.

  Lil picked up her mug and her notepad and crossed the kitchen to the coffee pot. “What’s a priority for me, boss?” she asked.

  “Go see that fuckin Pablo and get an answer out of him. I’ve called him three times to find out if his doctor has given him a return to work date and he’s dancing around the question. If he’s not coming back, I want to know.”

  “He still pissed about the Annie thing?”

  Blaine raised a black eyebrow. “You hear about that?”

  Lil giggled. “I hear about everything. Nobody gossips more than big tough guys when they’re not punching somebody in the face.”

  Blaine chuckled. “I don’t know what’s up Pablo’s ass, but I’m leaving it in your capable hands to find out.”

  “I’ll give him a call and go see him this afternoon.”

  Blaine picked up his cell to give the Chief a call and the black cat image loomed on his screen. I promised the Chief I’d call her, and I forgot. Shit. “Morning, Governor. How’s your day shaping up?”

  “Everyday is worse than the day before.”

  “That can’t be true. You love being the queen of Texas.”

  “I used to love it, but now I have no right hand man. Honestly, sweetie, I think there’s something wrong with Stokes. The man can’t hold a thought for more than a couple of seconds.”

  “Maybe he should see a doctor. Do you think its medical?”

  “I do now, and I’m a bit ashamed to say at first I thought it was stupidity. Should I call Mrs. Stokes? Would that be weird?”

  “It’s never weird to call out of concern. Ask her if she’s noticed anything... unusual about her husband. She lives with him. See what she says.”

  “You always know the right approach. Thanks. And… again, I’m sorry about Hilder.”

  “Are you still seeing him?”

  “Not here. I’m being super cautious. He came to my house for dinner.”

  “So… the answer to my question is yes.”

  “Sort of.”

  “It doesn’t matter a sweet goddam to me now that he doesn’t work for me. I don’t care who you see, Cat, and you should have a life like everybody else. You just have to think it through first. You can’t afford to make a big public mess.”

  “You’re right, of course, if I have any hope of being re-elected. That’s a long way off and I might decide against it when the time comes. Some days I wish I was back on the bench. It was a calmer lifestyle and I truly loved being a judge.”

  “I’ve got to call the Chief, Cat. Call Mrs. Stokes and establish some kind of contact for the future in case things get worse. She might be worried about her husband too.”

  “I’m doing it right now. Thanks, sweetie.”

  Sonora. Texas.

  AFTER the free breakfast at the Hampton Inn, Farrell drove with Travis and Luke downtown to the sheriff’s office. “A loose plan,” he said, “we’ll go see how their forensics people are making out with Benny Watson’s room and at the same time ask if we can use two of their interrogation rooms. Once we get the okay for the space we’ll go bring in the twins.”

  “Think we’ll need more manpower to bring both of those big fuckers in?” asked Luke.

  Travis nodded. “They’re gonna go sideways, partner. Me and Luke seen the sweat pouring off the assholes and that’s when we were being all friendly and nice.”

  “Okay, that too. We’ll ask for backup while we’re asking Sonora PD for everything else.”

  “Let’s do it,” said Travis. “Go for the motherlode.”

  Sheriff Oxford sat behind his desk immersed in paperwork. He raised his head when the deputy on duty at the front desk showed the Agency crew in, but he seemed pleased to see them. “Come in, boys, come in. Would y’all like a coffee?”

  “No thanks,” said Farrell, “we just finished breakfast. Have a few things we need, and we were wondering if y’all could help us out?”

  “Of course, we can. No problem.”

  “First,” said Farrell, “did your lab people finish in Benny Watson’s room?”

  “They did. It wasn’t a big space and it didn’t take them but a couple of hours.” He checked his computer screen. “I sent the report to Ranger Blackmore, but I can print off a copy if you’d like to read it for yourself.”

  “Thanks, that would be helpful.”

  “What else?”

  “Do y’all have a couple of interrogation rooms that aren’t busy this morning?”

  “We do have two and that’s all we have, but we’re not expecting to use them—nothing I’m aware of. Do you have suspects coming in?”

  “Uh huh. And that brings me to request number three. We figure these guys will give us trouble and if we’re fixing to bring them in alive, we’re gonna need help.”

  “Why don’t I send two squads with you? Will that be enough?”

  “Two should do it,” said Farrell. He reached across the desk and shook Oxford’s hand. “Appreciate the support.”

  “Mind me asking who your suspects are?”

  “Jeff and Joey Golden,” said Farrell, “the boys that run Twin Auto.”

  The Sheriff frowned. “I’ve taken my truck there a couple of times and they seemed nice enough.”

  “We have enough evidence to bring them in for a round of formal questioning in Benny Watson’s murder,” said Farrell. “And I want to put pressure on them.”

  Sheriff Oxford stood up and reached for his hat. “Let’s go get them.”

  The Blackmore Agency. Austin. Texas.

  BLAINE strode into the kitchen to freshen his coffee and called Fletcher to see where they were—tailing the SUV.

  “We’ve got them, boss,” said Fletch. “They did a drive-through at the Golden Arches and we followed a few vehicles behind. Got us coffee and breakfast sandwiches. So far, they’re just driving. Nothing else.”

  “Okay, whenever they stop, write down the addresses.”

  “Yep, will do.”

  “And don’t let them make you or y’all are dead.”

  “Good incentive not to.”

  Blaine called Chief Calhoun and brought him up to speed.

  “Why do we care where that filthy piece of work is headed?” asked the Chief.

  “Not my call, sir, but somebody doesn’t want those boys setting up in Austin after getting wiped out in Houston. Might be just a precaution, I think.”

  “But you’re not sure of the motive behind the request?”

  “Not yet,” said Blaine. “Sometimes I never know the reason behind the assignment and sometimes it’s clear as crystal.”

  “Shit, I don’t like it, son. Those are nasty, nasty people who will kill you if you look at them sideways. Keep me in the loop.”

  La Grange. Texas.

  ANNIE was in the barn at Coulter-Ross when she got the call. She’d enjoyed the work at first, but lately, and especially after all the trouble with Dougie the Dog, she wasn’t keen on taking any more jobs. Her boys wanted her to quit and that’s the way she was leaning.

  “Yes sir?” She stepped through the double doors and walked towards the corral.

 
“I need you to do something important, sweetheart.”

  Annie listened to the details and felt queasy in her gut. This wouldn’t be good. There would be all kinds of retribution and that’s the last thing she wanted—to put her kids in danger.

  “I’m not sure,” she said wondering if he’d be angry.

  “Take your time and think about it, dear. It has to be done.”

  Sonora. Texas.

  SEVERAL cars were parked in front of Twin Auto when Farrell pulled his red Silverado onto the lot. The place was humming on a Tuesday morning. He resolved to go in low-key, see if the twins would voluntarily come in for questioning and if not, he had backup.

  Travis and Luke followed close behind in the dark green camper unit and behind them was Chief Oxford with his deputy and another squad. He was covered.

  Farrell waited beside his truck until Travis parked and he and Luke were ready. Travis gave a nod and he and Luke took the overhead doors into the garage while Farrell went in through the office. A squad with two deputies had driven around the back of the building.

  One of the twins stood behind the parts counter. Farrell couldn’t tell if it was Jeff or Joey without checking the name on the overalls. Both of the brothers had round faces with a day’s growth of ginger scruff, and their hair was exactly the same—almost shoulder length stringy ginger. Farrell thought they both went around five eleven, two-twenty. Lots of weight—not much muscle.

  Joey. The one standing in front of him was Joey. Farrell held up his creds and at the same time made his request. “We’d like you and your brother to come to the sheriff’s office to answer a few questions.”

  Joey shook his head. “Ask your fuckin questions here, cop. I ain’t going to the sheriff’s office.”

  “Why not?”

  “Too fuckin busy. Can’t you see all the customers waiting for their vehicles?”

  Farrell glanced at the two guys reading the paper and drinking coffee. “Uh huh. It does look busy today,” said Farrell, “but that don’t change anything.” He pulled a set of cuffs off his belt. “I’m asking you nicely to come to headquarters and answer some questions. If you refuse, you’ll be charged with resisting arrest.”